Bitter Duck
by anonymousanomaly
Summary: This is a Pretty in Pink fanfic. Duckie gets his revenge, but at what price? It's my first fic and is still in progress.
1. A New Curiosity or Hook Line and Sinker

"Wow... Clash shirt," thought the young intern, mouth agape at a rather skinny but attractive man walking by the reception desk. She spun around in her chair, checking him out covertly behind the computer screen. He looked in his mid-30s, with dark hair and rather eccentric yet sophisticated fashion taste. Somehow the man had managed to make a vintage concert tee look business-like. Immediately the intern was enthralled.  
  
He moved in a way that piqued her interest he held himself well. She watched him as he spoke to a businessman, motioning to some papers. He was articulate, and yet... there was sadness about him. She was sure no one else noticed; the intern had always been quick to pick up moods and feelings from people others dismissed.  
  
"I see Duckie has a new fan?" another young woman with slick, short black hair murmured behind her.  
  
"Duckie, is that his name? Seems to suit him..."  
  
"It does," the raven-haired woman replied. "He's rather popular around this magazine. He's the chief music critic. Very successful."  
  
"Oh really? Well..." and the intern's voice trailed off, her mind wondering of tragedy. 


	2. The Same but Somehow Different

Duckie combed back his hair in its usual duck-tailed style and rubbed gel throughout. He was getting ready for yet another date. His nights had become fairly occupied with women of all sorts; Waitresses, Wall Street pioneers... It didn't really matter to them, not since he got a high-paying job at the magazine. Duckie knew he was technically using these girls, just like they used him. He meant no ill will to these girls. He never slept with them. He merely enjoyed watching them become enamored with him and more importantly his money, and then he could talk about all things, lie if he felt the need, and they never dared disagree. He knew they probably weren't even listening, preferring instead to shovel food robotically into their mouths as they stared at his eyes, Duckie's best feature. He figured he was making up for lost time; so much was wasted on a lost cause in high school.  
  
He looked at himself in the full-length mirror in the room opposite the bath. He looked so much the same as he did then, yet his gentle outlook regarding the opposite sex had dissipated. The charm still oozed from him, and yet his heart was gone. Duckie enjoyed women and still looked to them in the same boyish curiosity, but he couldn't bring himself to get close. He was bitter, and cruel. All those inward changes, and yet he was only slightly taller and plagued with a five o' clock shadow. With a sigh, he took a last long look at himself, pointed at his Elvis poster, and headed off for a date with an intern. 


	3. Bitter Revenge

"This one is rather impressive," Duckie thought, noting the small blonde before him. She was a rare one, the kind Duckie really enjoyed. The kind that listened and was interested. The kind who thought of her own ideas, and intelligent ones. The kind that didn't money-grub, but was sincere.  
  
They had been playing a game of questions for a while now; each one taking turns interrogating the other's soul. Many glasses of wine had passed through both of their lips, making the game even easier for both of them. It was back to the blonde.  
  
"Have you ever been in love?"  
  
With those words, Duckie, who had been lazing in his chair the entire date, arrogant and carefree, sat up stiffly. He looked at the girl, knowing with his reaction there was no way to get out of the answer. He took another sip of wine, and began to speak:  
  
"I... thought I was once."  
  
"You thought you were?" the blonde leaned forward, her eyes shining with curiosity. "She's so young..." Duckie thought.  
  
"Yes. I can't be sure. In high school, I had a friend. My best friend... But I liked her as more than that. Unfortunately, she liked a Made-in-Taiwan toy named Blaine. Its funny, I was so much nicer then, so much more alive and vibrant, and yet she saw nothing. I was ignorant, of course. A social outcast and wannabe-punk. But still... I jumped through hoops. I even beat up a guy at prom for her, and still, I get nothing..."  
  
The intern knew she had hit a soft spot in the man sitting across from her. However, she was too curious to be cautious, to take the hint and back off. Duckie secretly didn't want her to. All the long times he had spent running through the situation in his thoughts had never led to a vocalized complaint.  
  
"So, then what?"  
  
Duckie nervously shifted his weight around the chair.  
  
"So I went to college, and I studied music history and theory. I realized I had a predilection for journalism, also, and here I am. She and Blaine were married as soon as soon as they graduated. He went to law school on his Daddy's money, and she stayed home with the kids, which immediately followed the vows. All-American white picket fence family, of course. I kept up with her through friends. Every once in a while I would see her drive around campus in an expensive sports car. She looked so different than before... much more unhappy. After college I moved into a small apartment, working for an underground newspaper. It didn't pay much or have a high readership, but it was there I learned my style. One night, I remember it was raining in torrents, she came to my apartment. She was in a large fur coat sopping with rain, mascara run down her cheeks and her red hair sticking to her head. I saw a bruise rising on her cheek, and I knew Blaine had hit her. She looked like a little wet puppy standing there, disheveled in my doorway. She told me many things, right there on my welcome mat. About how she was sorry for her behavior in high school, how she should have known I was better. She begged me to once again be her friend, as if years hadn't passed but some small argument the night before. She said she missed me. But by then... I had coached myself into apathy. I had many defense mechanisms as a teen, most relying on self-delusion, but they wore away during my stay at the University. Then I was angry, and confused. He was a fucking yuppie for Christ's sakes! But the teeth of the situation were filed down through the continuous bite in my gut it provided. I learned many things, many things I should have known before. I looked at her, helpless, needy, and ultimately a user, just as she had always been and would be, and I held no more sympathy. And so... I shut the door, right there in her face, and I haven't seen her since."  
  
Duckie's hand motioned with a gesture of stark finality.  
  
The blonde's jaw had dropped as she listened, and she now sat open-faced, like a stunned deer. "So... you just left her there..."  
  
"Well... I can't say it's the best decision I made in my life, and I have paid a great deal of my own heart to shut that door. But then again... They say what does around, comes around. You get what you give, treat people as you want to be treated... It's all a karma thing, you see?" and with that Duckie emptied the rest of his wine glass, and grinned at the girl with a forced but seemingly natural smile.  
  
"My turn..." 


End file.
